For Those Below
by Astyra Starfall
Summary: When young Glaswegian, Nicholas Rush came to Oxford with the intention of following his dream of becoming a great mathematician, the last thing he imagined was that he would meet a kindred spirit in the enigmatic and troubled Gloria Estare. Through friendship, loyalty, and those who would tear them apart the two discover that love can be the most powerful healer.
1. Down, But Not Out

**For Those Below  
**Co-Written by N. Ward/J. O'Connell.  
Edited by: Nikki Ward  
Paring: Nicholas Rush/Gloria Rush  
Theme: Love/Hurt/Comfort  
PG- 15

**Oxford University, UK, 1979**

The young man scratched his stubbled chin and pulled at the oversized, red beanie that covered his mop of unruly brown hair. A pair of deep brown eyes peered out across the ocean of registered students through thick framed, thick lensed glasses; noting the trappings of wealth that adorned them. It was a grounding exercise; a means of reminding himself of the disparity between them and himself. Unlike them, he had not attended the best private schools that Britain had to offer, but instead the hard stooled classrooms of the Glaswegian Boys Catholic School under the tuition of the Christian Brothers (with many a bloody palm as testament). There, from a very young age his prospects had been made clear to him; the Catholic poor remained the Catholic poor. Notions of escape were futile and sinful. Well, if he was to burn in hell, he would burn an educated man, if nothing else.

Nicholas Anthony Hue Rush was a docker's son, and the youngest of three; the problem child in a family reared on problems. His father hated him and his mother had died when he was just ten years old - not that she had ever shown him that much attention. A severe depression acerbated by an abusive husband was the cause of that. His siblings? His elder brother Diarmuid has been killed in a local shooting in 1973, and his sister Leslie was the poster-girl for teenage ASBOs. One would think that such a background would have made one bitter, but if anything it had only made him more determined to follow his dream of becoming a great mathematician.

Though many would have considered him an introverted and solitary individual, who lacked the basic social skills that were essential to function in society, very few knew the nature of his brilliant mind. Where words failed him, math spoke to him. It had always been his strong suit in school. When most children would have been struggling to master their times tables, Nicholas was solving problems of probability at a secondary school level - all in his head of course. Even now, as he listened to the portly Professor Saul drone on about the applications of 'differential equations', his mind was turning over the equation that was written on the board. It offended him. Not because he considered it below him (Nicholas was much too modest for that) but because of the glaring error in calculation. It was so blatantly obvious, yet he was the only one who seemed to notice it.

But he couldn't raise his hand. He couldn't expose this careless error because Nicholas Rush was not a student. Nicholas Rush was homeless, and therefore couldn't afford to be.

* * *

She was bored. That was her only reason for sitting in a class that wasn't one of her electives. Well actually the real reason she was sitting here was because of her friend. She sighed. This was a bad idea. She hadn't a clue what they were talking about, let alone what the complicated looking squiggles on the board below meant. Gloria Olivia Estare was of a proper upbringing; something that her mother never allowed her to forget. Her father was the head of a music company that sold and distributed instruments to big scale orchestras and the like. It was a profitable business and like many that attended Oxford University, she was wealthy. She, herself, was renowned throughout the school for her wealth and beauty and they were things that meant so little to her. She had pale skin and short dark hair that came just below her ears, and was of an almost worryingly slight build. Her intelligence wasn't anything to be marvelled at, but her true gift lay in music, something which she had inherited from her father. Her ability to hit the higher scales, and play the violin with skill beyond her years had been the key to her acceptance into the college's prestigious conservatoire. It was a wonder, therefore, why she was currently sitting in the middle of lecture on complex differential equations.

It had all been because of Clair, who actually was a student here. She had been intrigued by this notion of someone in her class who wasn't supposed to be here, and who she said had all the skills of someone who should. This alone had been enough to peak Gloria's inquisitive nature. She did enjoy the idea of a rebel; someone who was here, not because he was supposed to be, but because he wanted to.

It hadn't taken long to find him either. She saw him across the classroom, marvelling at his ability to sit amongst the elite with as much sore-thumbedness as ever he could have had. Flicking her hair behind her ear, she sighed a little, unable to pull her eyes away from him. He was curiously handsome for someone of his breed. Secretly, she longed to be like him, wild and free, not afraid to take risks, even if it meant getting yourself in trouble.

It was easy to tell that he was poor from his clothes, although she felt guilty for thinking it. She was beginning to sound like her mother; snobbish and judgmental to the point of ignorance.

She had to know more about him.

She shifted a little getting as close as she could to him without letting the teacher see her. She was now seated behind him and watched him working through with she imagined was the content of the board below. Being this close, she found herself studying his posture and body language. It had always been an interest of hers; observing the traits of those from other social castes. Eventually, she turned her gaze away, lest she be caught red handed for staring.

* * *

Nicholas hadn't ever been what one might have called observant; indeed, he would have been better described as oblivious, yet he noticed _her_. That said, it was hard not to. She was beautiful; her dark chestnut hair resting perfectly against her porcelain skin in a neat bob, that made her blue eyes sparkle. She moved almost silently to sit behind him, and he was momentarily distracted by the scent of expensive perfume that hung on the air as she passed. Glancing back for the briefest of moments, her gave her the tiniest of smiles then turned his attention back to the equation on the board, and tried to ignore the mistake there. _It's right there! Just look! It's right in front of your damned eyes!_

He didn't verbalise this, of course. To do so would only serve to expose him, and that was the very last thing he needed right now. Although he wasn't a registered student, he figured that he could ride on the coat tails of the British Education System for as long as humanly possible, learning as much as he could before they started to suspect him. What he wouldn't have given to be one of them; learning, making contributions to science and mathematics; making something of himself. Still, he supposed that things could be worse. Now if only that bampot of a professor would notice his own mistake.

He must have been tapping his pencil particularly loudly against the edge of his notebook, as the professor paused in his lecture and looked straight in his direction. It was like a scene from one of those terrible American schooldays films that his sister always watched, as row by row the students turned their heads to find the source of the disruption. _Bollox._

"Is there a problem, Mr…er…". Saul furrowed his brow and squinted at the interloper with a furrowed brow. "What is your name, lad?"

_Shit. Shit. SHIT._

"Uh… M'name…M'name is…" he stammered in his heavy Glaswegian brogue, his face turning redder than his beanie as the crease in the ageing professor's brow grew deeper by the second. "M'name's… R…Rush, sir. N..Nic'las Rush."

Saul held the young man's gaze steadfastly, as Nicholas gripped the notepad on the desk in front of him with a tight fist. His heart was ramming against his rib cage, and he suddenly began to feel very claustrophobic. This was it. This was the moment that all his dreams and aspirations came crashing down in a great big fireball, and he would be carted back to Glasgow on the next bus home. Except he wouldn't go home, because he couldn't. _Not after…_ He swallowed hard and pushed that thought to the back of his mind as the distinctly American voice of the Professor rang in his ears again.

"And is something bothering you, Mr. Rush that you feel the need to disrupt my class?"

This was his chance to make it or break it. _Show him! Show him his own mistake and redeem yourself! Do it _NOW. Swallowing hard, he looked around the class again, meeting the eyes of his fellow peers with apprehension. For a split second he met the gaze of brunette behind him, and his breath caught in his throat, his heart lurching, whether out of fear or something else entirely he didn't know. He held her gaze for another few moments, seeking some sort of assurance in her eyes even though he had never spoken to her or wasn't even aware of her existence before this moment. She was just so... so...

* * *

He had looked at her. In that moment she felt as those the whole world had slowed down to a snail's pace and could have sworn she that felt her heart skip a beat. How did a complete stranger - a semi vagabond for that matter – manage to invoke such feelings in her? He had looked at her and smiled at her and she had to admit that it suited the straggly look he had going on. Solemnity only served to age him beyond his years. What was it that was so mysterious about this young man, that had had caught her attention from the very first moment she lay eyes on him? It was more than just a 'chalk and cheese' situation. It was something... more. _Don't be daft Gloria! You only found out about this boy today. Surely you're just getting carried away with yourself! _

She turned her attention back to the exchange between her subject of interest and Professor Saul, his peculiar accent making her smile. His name was Nicholas Rush – or that's what she could delineate at least. It was difficult to tell with his accent being as thick as it was. She was nervous for him. She didn't want to see him get in trouble, but curiosity at the outcome prevented her from intervening. And so she sat still and watched, her heart racing with anticipation.

* * *

"_Mr. Rush!"_

The sharpness in the Professor's tone made him snap his gaze back to the front of the class, as he gripped his notebook tighter. "It… It's just that…"

"Yes?! Out with it already! I don't have all day to stand here and listen to you think!"

He closed his eyes for a moment, a stream of numbers and calculations darting through his mind at an impossible pace. When he opened them again, he let out a slow breath and stood. "Yer equation's wrong, Sir. S'barely noticeable but the error in calculation makes the problem unsolvable. Ye… Ye state tha' to solve the equation one needs separate the variables bu' t'do so it needs t'be_ d__n__y/ dx__n__ := y__(n)__ (x) = F (x,y,y', ..., y__(n-1)__)_ … n.. not _Picard's Theorum_ as ye'd said previously…" He waited for the Professor to chew him out for his arrogance, but it didn't come. Instead, Saul turned his gaze to the board and studying it for a moment, he realised his mistake and turned back. "Oh. Very good… I was wondering when one of you might notice that. Submit your written calculations at the end of class." Nicholas shifted uneasily and looked to him sheepishly. "I… I can'ee sir."

"You can't? Why not?"

"Well uh… I didn'ee… write it down. I.. uhm. I worked it out in m'head…"

Gloria had to admit the math went over her head, but that didn't stop her from noting that she found his fierce intelligence attractive. Just knowing that he could go above a teacher and find the problem and fix it; it was unlike anything she had ever seen before. For someone to be that far ahead of everyone else... She was stunned, unable to stop the blush from crawling into her cheeks.

She wanted to cheer for him as he spoke about coming up with it in his head. If only all students in the university were here on their talent alone, rather than the inheritances passed onto them by their parents. It seemed unfair to her that someone so talented should be unable to afford to study what he loved; terribly unfair. She slowly started to clap for him, an action that sorted a sort of ripple effect throughout the classroom as one by one the other students began to join in. He deserved this.

The applause from his peers took a moment to register, as Nicholas looked about the room with silent bewilderment. Were they applauding _him? _But he was… nobody - a drifter without a penny to his name. Why would they even acknowledge his existence, let alone an achievement in something that came completely natural to him?

Looking to the professor, he was met with a gentle nod of approval, and something else in the older man's eyes; something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Was that... acknowledgement? It was a few moments before he was allowed to sit back down again, as Saul ushered them into silence.

"Well now… I'm more than a little disappointed that only one of you noticed that deliberate mistake, and hope in future that the rest of you will come to class with just a smidge more enthusiasm?"

The professor's words were drowned out as Nicholas sat forward and tried to comprehend what had just happened. It had been a very dangerous move, and still had the potential to be dangerous, if Professor Saul took it upon himself to search for him in the college records. In doing so he would find that there never was a Nicholas Rush in attendance at Oxford University, and Nicholas's chances at a future would be thrown to the wind. Still, the recognition from his peers had been a mollifying experience. Never in his life had he known such appraisal from anyone. His attempts to excel in school had always been met with swift reproach and dismissal. There was no place for 'know-it-alls' in Catholic schools.

Gripping his notebook tightly to his chest, he was suddenly overcome by a terrible sense of being closed in, as the usual dread begin to set in. _What if this is it? I can't go back. I can't go home. Not now. Not ever. _Standing, he took hold of his satchel and made for the exit, unnoticed by the rest of the class who were now listening intently to the lecture. Stumbling out the door as he went, he felt as though the ground was beginning to give way beneath his feet. He knew this feeling. It was as familiar to him as breathing. He was having what the doctor's in his youth had dubbed an 'hysterical episode'. The bastard's never cared to ask why.

Falling against a row of lockers adjacent to the lecture hall, he began to fumble in his pockets for something, eventually managing to pull out a worn looking packet of tobacco, and a strip of matches. He lit the match with trembling hands, swearing as it fell from his fingers and was extinguished on the cold tiles at his feet. Leaning his back against the lockers, he began to hyperventilate and sunk into a seated position, burying his face in his knees.

_Oh God. No no no. Not here. Not now. Please not now. _

Gloria was the only one who seemed to witness his adverse reaction. She could see by his face that something had turned dark in his mind, and she frowned. It was written all over his face. As he left, she too got to her feet, and gesturing to friend to notify her leaving, she followed suit. She exited the classroom just in time to see him collapse against the locker. Gasping, she rushed to his side and kneeled down in front of him. He was breathing very heavily, and seemed to be starting at something beyond their line of vision. "Sir? Mister Rush? Can you hear me? Do you need help?" She kept her voice low, trying hard not to startle him further. "Please tell me you are alright".

Usually when Nick had panicked like this in the past, he had been alone in his bedroom, locked away from the world where no one could see him cry. No one ever came to him in those moments, although occasionally one of his siblings would come to check that he hadn't 'topped himself'. They had been that bit considerate at least. Still, when her hand touched his shoulder, his natural reaction was to shield his face. Too many times, he had been backhanded for crying in front of _him_ while he was in the middle of one of his drunken rages. But the anticipated blow never came. Lowering his arms, he was hit with the brilliant blue of those eyes that had caught his attention in class. That girl again…

Trying to compose himself, he wiped hastily at his tears and rose to his feet, mumbling his apologies. "M'sorry… M'okay." _Liar._ He hadn't been okay for a very long time. Still, he wasn't inclined towards letting others see him cry. It meant that he was weak and he couldn't afford to be weak. Not anymore. Fumbling for another match, he looking to her ashen-faced as he made a second attempt to light a cigarette. He found himself calming at her presence. She had a friendly face, the kind you didn't often see in this dog-eat-dog world. In fact, she was… beautiful now that he was looking at her head on. Finally managing to light the cigarette, he steadied his breathing enough to form a few words, and offer her the smallest of smiles. "But uh, Call me Nick. Mister Rush's me Da."

She breathed out, and laughed a little embarrassed that she had allowed herself to get so concerned. He was obviously fine. Or was he? Something about his eyes told her, differently. She had to admit that the accent took some getting used to and he seemed so nervous, the poor thing. What must he have gone through in his past to end up like this. She flustered then and let her arms drop by her side. _Your name! Tell him your name!_ "My name! I'm such a dither head! I'm Gloria. Gloria Estare". He was still nervous. That much was obvious by the way that he was glancing about. Soon these halls would be teeming with transient students. "It's nearly time for classes to change. We won't be able to move. How about we get out of here and go outside for a bit? You look like you could do with the fresh air"

He found himself staring at her as she talked, smiling at her attempt to get every word out in a single breath. She was a little flighty, perhaps a wee bit awkward, but there was something about her face that instantly set him at ease. Nodding to her silently, he took the roll-up from his mouth, and smiled. "Yeah… I'd.. That'd be nice. Although… I have t'ask. Why're ye e'en talkin' t'me? No offence 'r nothin' bu' m'no exactly in yer league, am I? M'kinda a bottom-feeder…" He looks away shyly, and clutched the worn satchel at his side. He didn't know anything about this girl and yet somehow he felt completely at ease with her, as if he had known her his entire life. She seemed to him, like the perfect representation of everything he would never have; beauty, wealth, prestige. She was in every way a model of the upper class, and yet here she was, walking with him. showing him kindness. _Maybe I passed out and this is some sort of unusually pleasant dream? _

Walking down the steps of the college with her, he squinted a little at the sunlight that hit his eyes, and took another drag of his cigarette. _Bright. _They found a spot near a small fountain, and he sat, leaning his elbows on his knees as he tried to steady his breathing. He felt like an idiot for allowing such a thing to overwhelm him. In his rational mind, he knew that the attacks wouldn't kill him and yet when he was in the middle of one, all he could think about was the fact that he couldn't breathe. It was the vicious cycle of anxiety, and he hated it.

After a few moments of sitting in silence, he looked to her and afforded her a small side smirk. "Ye must think m'a right wally, eh? Gettin' all weak in the knees like tha'… Ye wouldn'ee be wrong neither. I am. The biggest." She noticed his staring and blushed; not used to this much attention from a stranger. He had such a strong accent, which she had to really focus on if she intended on understanding anything that he was saying. Still, she liked it. It was unique, and a breath of fresh air from the usual Queen's English that she had to listen to.

"Well because after living so long in the world of the elite, it's nice to talk to someone... normal. Not that you're mundane or anything! I just mean well…how do I put this without offending you? I... I have never talked with someone of a lower class before, not because I'm some sort of uppity bitch. I just ... never had the opportunity. I'm sorry if that's offensives" She blushed and hated having to admit that secretly, she preferred the company of those outside her social circle. "I want to talk to you because I wanted to show you that we're not all the same. I mean, I'm not perfect either. I have my blemishes"

As he begun to berate himself, she frowned and gave him a look "You're not a wally! Whatever or... whoever that is". _Great._ _He is going to think I am a complete moron! _And then she started to hiccup, swearing under her breath as she tried control her breathing. This always happened when she was overstimulated or nervous, or as in this case, both.

Nicholas smirked. She was adorable. Her excitability and overall demeanour was a breath of fresh air from the usual people that he was accustomed to dealing with. He occasionally repaired electronics and appliances for people to earn a small amount of cash, which often found him mingling with some of the more unsavoury characters of downtown Oxford. It might have surprised anyone to know that even the home of the most prestigious university in Britain had it's own downtown. It was cleaner than what Nicholas had been used to back in Glasgow, but it still had it's unsavoury characters. He looked to her and she began to hiccup and laughed a little. "Yanno they say if ye hang yerself upsid'down s'stops the hiccups, though I always favoured the ol' fashioned glass of water m'self"

He could see that she was getting embarrassed by this, and only smiled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a scrunched up and tatty looking handkerchief. He thought about giving it to her, but... well, it wasn't exactly in any proper state for a lady of her standing. "S'alright. I can'ee slag ye anyway. No' after wha' jus' happened t'me in there. I'd be a right arsehole if I did an' ye've been so nice to me." He looked to her then and tried to discern some reason behind why she was giving him so much attention. The action was futile of course. Nicholas had about as much skill in reading people's faces as a blind man. He was close enough too. "Can I ask ye somethin'? Why're ye bein' so nice t'me? Honestly, I mean?"

She listened to him explaining things and tried to calm herself down again. She witnessed him taking out the handkerchief and reached across, taking it gently; her hand grazing across his ever so softly as she did so. "Thank you. That's very sweet of you. As for why I'm being so nice. Do I need a reason to be? I mean I could ask you the same question. Why are you here; right now at this very second? If anyone has a right to be bitter towards my kind, it's you. We're not exactly the most giving of people. You could have called me every rude name under the sun, and walked away as so many do, and yet here you are. Why?"

The young Scot took a moment to consider her question, looking to his hands as he did so. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. He didn't know why he remained next to this stranger; why he didn't feel the need to shy away from her like everybody else. Though he felt a little anxious still, there was something about her that made him feel completely at ease, as if he had known her his entire life. Indeed, there were people he _had_ known his entire life, around whom he still didn't feel so much at ease. "Well… " he started, glancing to her through his thick framed glasses, which he pushed up the bridge of his nose out of habit. "I don'ee believe in bein' mean t'someone tha' don'ee deserve it. Upper class ye may be bu'… y'aint wronged me in any way, so, there's no reason fer me to treat ye bad. Like m'aunt always used t'say; ye can'ee paint all people wi' the same brush. "

For many centuries, there had been disparity between the upper and lower classes; two very different worlds at polar opposites in the social scale; one always thinking ill of the other. To those at the top, the lower class were gutter scum, the dirt on the heel of their boot, the layman who did the menial tasks judged too rough and ready for those of a more softer nature. To those on the bottom, the upper class were leeches, who coveted all the best resources for themselves; buying their way into the best medical care, the best schools and luxuries, while poorer children were dying on the streets with a dirty needle hanging out of their arm. This new age of Thatcherism had done nothing to remedy these issues either.

He had to admit, that there had been times when he had thought bitterly about the more privileged of those in society; wondering how the government could allow those people to have so much, while his family could barely afford to eat from day-to-day. Still, separation and time had made him come to terms with his lot and accept it. There was no point in being resentful anymore. It could be an awful lot worse. "Besides, resentment only burns energy I can'ee afford t'use up, yanno?" He looked ahead of him taking another slow drag of his roll-up. "I was born into this life penniless, and I'll surely die penniless, so wha's the point in tryin' t'fight it? Guess I'm just committed t'me lot; some might e'en call me complacent."

Gloria leaned back so that she was looking up at the sky and reached one hand upwards. "I don't see you quite like that. If that were true you wouldn't be sneaking into classes in a school you can't afford to attend. You shouldn't be so pessimistic!" she added pointedly. "There have been times when I would have given anything to shed my skin and become someone else. I have watched people less well off as I come and go as they please every day for as long as I can remember and prayed that maybe one day I could be like them…" She couldn't hide the shred of resentment in her tone. "Everyone else has free reign to follow the path they want to in life, except for me. I'm like this rare, wild bird in a gilded cage from which I can never escape!." She teared up, almost forgetting that she was talking to a complete stranger. She had been bottling these feelings for so long. She needed to vent before it swallowed her whole. She trembled and drew her outstretched hand back, as it began to hurt.

"I must sound insane to you." She wiped her eyes hastily. "You would think that someone with as much as I have, would want for nothing and yet..." She lowered her gaze, her shoulders trembling a little as she fought not to cry. She couldn't allow anyone to see her weaken. Regaining some of her composure, she apologised and looked to him then. _God, he looks so concerned. _ "I ... I hope I didn't scare you. I can get wrapped up in my own thoughts sometimes." She forced a smile for his benefit.

Nicholas felt a heaviness in his heart when he got a momentary glance at the sadness that seemed to surround this girl. Somehow, like him, she had known pain in her life; had known the sting of feeling less than your worth. He didn't know her story but in that instant wanted to; needed to know more about this girl who had the whole world and yet seemed to grieve for it. When he spoke, his voice was low. "Yeah, I know tha' feelin' n' all…"

He lowered his gaze then, thinking back to his own troubled childhood in Glasgow; about the numerous times that he had wanted to start running and never look back, but never had the courage or the strength to break away. It was only that faithful day when he was sixteen years old that was the breaking point; that gave him the drive he needed to leave. He had had so many aspirations; so many hopes then. He had it all planned out in his head. Now, his biggest concern was where he was going to get his next meal.

"But ye didn't scare me… Takes a lot more'n tha' t'scare a Glaswegian off, yanno?"

She stared at him when he said he knew, and reached out for his hand, stopping herself as her sleeve rolled back, revealing rows of little red lines across the pale flesh of her arm. She gasped, pulling her hand back rapidly. She didn't want him to see, she didn't want anyone to see. These weren't scratches. Her wrist had been cut, and the way in which the marks were, they looked as though they were done by someone else. Her blouse was dark coloured so until that moment, it had covered them over. He noticed the them before she had a chance to cover them up, but knew better than to question them. Scars were personal things, loaded with ample amounts of traumatic shit and the stories attached to them. Some people thought to they were cool; others the marks of someone too weak to fight back. To him, they were just another bloody reminder of all he had been through, and of the many scars that littered his own body. He couldn't help but wonder what her story was. Clearly, she wasn't the sort to self-harm and yet he had lived rough long enough to recognise a knife wound when he saw one. If he was honest, he was surprised that anyone from her class set would even have been exposed to such domestic violence. Surely it couldn't be her parents who'd inflicted the damage, but then… wonders never ceased in this day and age.

"You…I…" she faltered. "It's nice to talk to a Scotsman. I have never had the honour" She would have said anything to draw the attention away from herself, even it was a stupid observation. He laughed a little, and looked to his hands; a bad habit he would really have to check. "Well, uh.. I have spoken t'English lasses m'self but well… Ne'er held a conversation as long as this one… or wanted to." Probably because of the fact that young English woman that he had dared speak to, had been those passing him on the street as he had begged for their spare change. It was something he hated doing but sometimes he just got so damned hungry. Gloria pulled at her sleeves, subconsciously, the pointed silence between them now, making her feel uneasy. If he had seen the marks, he didn't seem fazed, as if they were something he had seen on a regular basis. _I wonder if he knows what it's like to feel alone in a crowded room; to feel closed in by the very people who are supposed to make you feel safe.  
_  
She took note of his appearance then, trying to banish the darker thoughts that were beginning to take hold in her mind. He looked so malnourished, as if he hadn't had a good mean in days. She wished she could help. Getting an idea, she smiled then and turned to rummage in her bag. "Hang on a just a second!". She pulled out a packed lunch and turned back to him "Here you are! You look like you need a meal" _Was that offensive? That was probably offensive. _She placed it beside him with a sheepish smile. "I made these myself. I always pack too much. They're chicken and onion with butter. It's a personal favourite." She blushed, admitting this. She didn't know why she had felt compelled to do that. Perhaps it was the good Samaritan in her.

He was surprised when the neatly wrapped sandwich fell into his lap and looked to her with quiet confusion. Had his stomach growled? It was almost as if she had read his bloody mind. Looking to her with a mixture of bewilderment and gratitude, he quickly unwrapped the sandwich and ate it, hungrily, taking little pause to chew. Realising the social faux pas, he paused in his doggish devouring, and looked to her with a sheepish smile as he swallowed his food. "Sorry… S'been a while…"

She laughed a little at how he ate, but understood why. Lord only knew how long it had been since his last meal. He needed it. "If you are wondering I volunteer with Porchlight on weekends. They help the homeless, and those who are less well off than others." If he had asked her why she did it, she couldn't have given him a straight answer. Perhaps it was some sort of altruism, perhaps she just enjoyed helping others. Whatever it was, it felt right. "I can tell by how you dress and how much personal belongings you have with you, that you are one of them, aren't you? I wasn't going to mention it before but the way you wolfed down that sandwich was the determiner for me." She couldn't help the apologetic look in her eyes, as she continued. "Also, uhm…my friend Clair saw you on the streets a while back and told me about you…" She felt ashamed now. She didn't want him to think that she was some sort of stalker. _I want to help him so badly. Why? Is it for self satisfaction? To clear my conscience; make myself feel better about myself. No…It's something more than that…_

She allowed him time to digest his food, as she spoke."I am sorry if this is a subject you would rather I not talk about but.. well, I just thought…maybe, if you like…I could help you?" Her heart lurched when she asked this, and she blushed. It was beginning to sound more like she needed him, than vice versa. Picking up a piece of fruit she had packed, she began to eat it quietly; anything to occupy her hands while she awaited his answer. She was worried that she had offended him. She paused in her eating to look to him, wondering if maybe she could discern something from his expression.

If he had been a proud man, Nicholas might have been offended, but time, humility, and one too many nights in a sewage filled back alley, had mollified him. He was long past the point of refusing help. If only other people cared enough to offer it. Looking to the young woman, he smiled a little, looking down as he felt his cheeks colour a little. "Tha' obvious, eh?" He had always made a point of keeping himself as clean as humanly possible, washing himself in public bathrooms whenever he had the opportunity, but there was only so much he could do to maintain himself. Clothes got worn and irrevocably stained; personal hygiene occasionally suffered from lack of facilities; entropy at its very best.

Stuffing the end of the sandwich into his mouth, he mulled over her offer. He could accept her help, and yet he didn't want to seem like too much of a loafer. When he had left home, he had been so determined to be self-sufficient; to never depend on another human being again. On the other hand, he could not accept offer and starve. Amenities for the homeless were becoming more and more scarce by the day; most public places closing their doors against them to avoid the social stigma that came with accepting waifs into your establishment. He could see in the young girl's eyes that she genuinely wanted to help, and yet he couldn't help the sliver of doubt that creeped into his heart. Nothing in life came free anymore. Did it?

Squinting against the sunlight that was piercing through the trees now, he took a moment to study her face before answering. _She's so beautiful; too beautiful almost to be real_. "I'd like that", he finally replied with a small side smirk, but added. "Can… Can I jus' ask ye one thing though. Why d'ye wanna help me? M'nobody special. Ye don'ee owe me anythin', so why would ye e'en give me a second's thought?"

She got up and directly facing him, she bent down onto her knees, her eyes meeting his as she smiled. "The answer isn't this profound equation or complex symphony, Nicholas!" She gave him the biggest smile she could have possibly mustered. "The answer to your question is 'because I care'. Simply, because I, honest to God, do care about you and your well being!" She paused then as she stared into his eyes, unable to look away from them. There were such an intense, deep brown that emanated that fierce intelligence of his. _You said far more then you needed to! That sounded like a confession of love, not the words of a streetwise Samaritan. I must be insane! What am I thinking!_

She stepped back then, rising to her feet and concealing her embarrassment with a cough. Even now as she was standing there she could not take her eyes off him. _I just want to help him; as any good charity worker would; nothing more. _If that was the truth then what was making her feel this way; and rendering her incapable of looking away. She played with the sleeve of her blouse as she was wont to do when she felt uneasy. "I honestly do care for you… For everyone really." She emphasized the point of including everyone, as a means of diverting the attention from her obvious infatuation. _More than you know. _She stopped herself saying anything further lest her mind betray her and make a further holy show of her. She had stopped mid sentence and this time it had sounded like a proper confession, although of what, she was wholly uncertain.

Nicholas watched her with an expression of mild astonishment, blinking slowly. Had she just confessed to caring about him? This beautiful, accomplished, upper class girl cared about him; a nobody, a backstreet lad from the slums of Glasgow? Stunned into silence, he felt something tug within himself, and he breathed in sharply as he broke her gaze, jumping to his feet. _What the bloody hell was that about?_ It had felt as though someone had kicked him in the chest. Now that he was standing, he had no real idea what to do next or how to even address what she had just confessed to him. _Well this is awkward_. Looking to her, he tried to discern some sort of explanation in her features, but she was looking away from him now, probably frightened by his sudden outburst. "I.. M'sorry.. 'bout tha'… M'no'… really sure.. what that was…" He laughed a little sheepishly, and scratched the back of his head, with a dorky grin. _Stop smiling, ye big numpty! She's gonna think you're spare or something._

She watched him, chuckling a little. He was so sweet and easy going. She reacted accordingly and giggled a little with him; his sheepish laughter infectious. She witnessed him coming towards her and she wanted to smile forever.

Pocketing the remainder of the sandwich, he was about to speak again when the shrill sound of the bell for next period, interrupted him. Making a face, he waited for it to end in its ear piercing declaration. When it had finally stopped, he pushed his glasses up his nose and slung his satchel over his shoulder, stepping up to her just a little. "Guess uh… Guess, that'll be you then, eh?"

She cursed inwardly turning back to look at Nicholas. She wanted to stay here and talk to him more. She hated having so many lectures in the one day, especially now that she had something better to focus on. As he stepped towards her, she took the opportunity to get a better look at him. He didn't get any less handsome up close. "What I said before was true, you know? I do care about you." She smiled then whimsically, a mischievous look in her eyes. "Consider this a parting gift from I to you, Nicholas. Hopefully you won't forget it."

As she stepped closer to him, it took every shred of his willpower for him not to jerk away. It wasn't that he found her repulsive (anything but!). It was that Nicholas Rush didn't like to be touched. In fact, he reacted violently to it. So when the young girl leaned up, and placed the chaste kiss upon his brow, it was both a terrifying and surreal moment for him. Usually, in such a situation, he would have turned tail and run from her, recoiling with such a vehemence that she might have thought him some sort of wild animal. Except he didn't recoil, but instead screwed his eyes shut with a shuddering breath as he felt her warm lips against his clammy brow.

"Take care of yourself, Nicholas Rush. I do hope we cross paths again!" She smiled brilliantly, and turned running away from him in the direction of the college.

How could he describe such a sensation to someone who had never experienced such a thing as utter isolation? Before he could even walk, he had learned to associate human contact with pain, and so the only way by which to avoid this pain was avoid all contact. If he was quiet, if he made himself small and unnoticeable, then he wouldn't get hit. If they don't touch me, they can't hurt me. Unlike other children, Nicholas had never learned the basic fundamentals of maternal love. His mother had never held him. Not once. No matter how much he'd cried, or pleaded with her; she never went to him. He was her invisible child; the one she just failed to notice. He was the child that had never been kissed; not even by his own mother, and so, that kiss; so simple and fleeting as it was, was the first time that Nicholas Rush had ever experienced the genuine affection of another human being.

He could say nothing as she pulled away from him; his words utterly failing him as a single tear ran down his pallid, stubbled cheek. She didn't know the significance of what she had just done. How could she? To her it was just a simple gesture of innocent affection, but to him…? To him, it was the greatest gift that anyone could have ever given him. He was lost then of course. From that moment, he was utterly and irrevocably hers.

Not that he had a problem with that.


	2. Something In The Song

**Oxford University, UK, 1979. Two weeks Later…**

The human mind is a complex organ; and the mind of the mathematician even more so. Whereas most people would experience the world through emotion and sensation; for Nick Rush it presented itself as a complex equation; one that, incidentally, he had yet to solve. It was no secret that he was a solitary animal. People simply did not connect with him. Perhaps it was a result of his general aloofness, or his inability to hold eye contact for more than ten seconds, but whatever it was, people generally kept their distance. Or they had at least, until _she _had happened. Where he once was content to occupy his mind with some of the more compelling curiosities of the universe, he now found it difficult to even focus on something as simple as differential equations. When he wasn't working, her face was the only other thing he could focus on.

It had been two weeks since that day, although for the young Glaswegian, it felt as though it had been eons. In fact, he had even begun to wonder if maybe the girl had just been a figment of his starved mind. She did seem too perfect to be real, and frankly it wouldn't have surprised him if he had finally begun to exhibit signs of insanity. They say that living on the streets can change a man; and yet Nicholas didn't feel any different than he had when he left home. If anything, he was more acceptant of his lot now.

The first few weeks had been hell. Although his home in Scotland had left much to be desired when it came to 'suitable living conditions', it had had all the basic amenities that one takes for granted. On the streets, it was fend for yourself or die trying, and he didn't have any real intentions of dying just yet. Still, he had accumulated a handful of squats that he migrated between on a daily basis; the only way he knew to keep the coppers off his tail.

Thumbing back through the worn spiral notebook full of equations and theoretical models, he began to wonder if maybe he spent too much time working at it. When it was all you had, you made do with your lot. Turning to the last page, he took out his pencil and began to work again. Perhaps this would keep his mind occupied. If it was occupied then he would spend less time focusing on the unattainable. Yet as unattainable as she was, he still couldn't stop thinking about her.

It was driving him insane. 

* * *

Gloria had retained at least most of her dignity that week. She had not stopped thinking about the _Scottish Rouge_, and found that thinking of him gave her a warm feeling in her chest. She smiled to herself as she walked with her packed lunch in hand, having just finished her last class for the day. She had walked the length and breadth of the campus, searching everywhere for him over the past few days but to no avail. Gloria had been loath to depart any real information about him, despite the constant probing of her inquisitive friend, Clair. He were her secret, and she intended to keep it that way. Clair had mentioned noticing him a few times on campus allegedly leaving maths lectures. Unfortunately for her his lectures usually finished as hers began, so she always seemed to miss him. It was almost as if he was trying to stay hidden.

Still, she continued to make him lunch every single day in the hope that, if she did see him again, that she would have something to give to him_. _She wandered past the open area of the campus and as she passed under one of the many archways, she recognised his silhouette against one of the walls. She might have almost missed him had she not been looking particularly hard. She stopped dead in her tracks and just stared at him for a while, smiling to herself. She wanted to just sit there and watch him work. He seemed so intense, the cogs of his mind turning over the equation before him like some human calculator.

Scratching absently at his chin, he placed the pencil pointedly against the paper, chewing the inside of his cheek, taking a moment to ponder the equation before him. There were two routes that he could take here, and one of them was the wrong one. Ironic, that probability so often presented itself in real life situations that were based on the very basic principles of right and wrong, and yet every student that had ever taken a mathematics course in school bemoaned the fact that they would never use math in their daily life. How little they knew…

Gloria gripped the package she had with her close to her chest. _You can do this! It's simple. Just go up and say hello._ Getting close to him, she seated herself silently beside him, not wanting to disturb his thought flow. After a moment, she softly cleared her throat to gain his attention, afraid that she might spook him if she did so too suddenly.

Breaking his gaze away from the page for a moment, Nick started when he realised that he was no longer alone and made in his usual manner to move away, but stopped himself when he realised who it was that was sitting beside him. "Gloria…" He couldn't help the smile that played over his lips as his eyes met hers. He gripped his pencil tightly, as he closed his notebook over with one hand, and relaxed himself back into a seated position. "Hey… How ye been? I uh… I haven't seen ye around campus since… must be two weeks now, yeah?" He shifted himself a little to face her, leaning his shoulder against the wall so he could look to her without straining his neck. He had anticipated this moment in his head a number of times, but hadn't really thought about what he would say to her or how he would even begin to explain how she had made him feel that day. Now that he was face to face with her, all he could do was smile at her stupidly, and glance down at the ground. Typical.

She watched him as he spoke, noticing the little things he did; the subtle nuances and mannerisms that he adopted. It made her smile. She wanted to ask what he was working on but didn't want to pry into his private matters. The notebook could be a diary for all she knew, written in some complex mathematical code that only he understood.

She cleared her throat, and found her cheeks getting redder by the moment. "S-sorry! I must have missed you…" It was the simple truth. "It's rather difficult to find someone who has lectures that start when my music ones end. Not to mention someone who picks the most secluded places on campus in which to hide. I've been looking for you for the last two weeks". Her voice was steeped in sadness. She tried to hide the hurt from him and yet she couldn't stop herself from asking the question. "Have you been... hiding from me?" she asked carefully. There was every possibility that he had been. She had acted rather rashly the last time they had spoken. "I… I prepared lunches for you every day, but couldn't find you. I even prepared one today…" She trailed off, looking down as she held up the small package. Nicholas felt a heaviness in his heart, when he realised that she had been looking for him. He hadn't been avoiding her as such, but hadn't wanted to seem like he was dogging her heels either. One had to be careful like that when it come to charity….or whatever this was. "No. No, 'course m'no' avoidin' ye. I jus' figured tha' ye wouldn'ee want me followin' ye around like a lost dog. That's all"

She moved a little closer and placed the package between them both. "You just looked so hungry. I…I wanted to make sure you had something to eat." She enjoyed helping him out like this. It made her happy knowing that he would survive at least one more day if she fed him. She opened it up to reveal a bundle of fruit, small cartons of orange and apple juice, four sandwiches and a bit of pocket change. "The change is so you can afford coffee in the morning."

He smiled, touched at the offer of food, and found that he was starting to redden in the cheeks again. Funny how she could invoke such reactions in him, simply by being close to him. Taking up one of the sandwiches in the box, he smiled thankfully and started to unwrap them. He took a methodical bite of the sandwich and looked to her, looking down when she mentioned the change. He hated that she felt so obligated to give him every little bit that she had, even though he had done nothing to deserve it. "I uh, I ne'er drank coffee, actually. Ne'er appealed t'me if m'honest. Tha' said that I ne'er opposed t'tryin' new things"

She giggled a little at that "I thought everyone liked coffee! I guess I was mistaken. I'm sure you'll love it. You know I hear that it's excellent for stimulating the brain or something like that." She paused and looked down at her hands again. "I am sorry, Nicholas. It was rude of me to think that you were avoiding me. It's not like I haven't been busy myself." She inclined her head as she reached out to touch his hand. "Are you alright. I couldn't get you off my mind the entire two weeks" She went wide eyed almost immediately when she realised what she had said. _What are you doing? Are you insane? Don't say that out loud!._

She grabbed a sandwich herself and began eating quickly, almost choking as she took too much at once. It took her a few moments to regain her composure, by which point she was thoroughly embarrassed. When she started to choke, Nick couldn't help himself from leaning forward to make sure that she was alright, hastily opening one of the juice boxes so that she could wash down the offending food. "Try no' t'inhale yer sandwich, eh? I hear tha' can be fatal…" He smirked and offered her a napkin from the lunch pack, looking away when she met his gaze. "I am sorry I just…I don't understand it. You would think that someone like me would be picky with men and want some high class snob or rich boy…" Indeed, growing up that was all she had thought about. When she met Nicholas however, all these fantasies had been completely replaced. "I…don't know what it is. You just make me want to know you…" She flushed and felt her cheeks, giggling a little. "It's so silly, I know, but I have never felt this way about anyone in my entire life." Nicholas was blushing now like the great big numpty that he was. He used to get teased back home for how much he used to blush every time a girl would look at him, let alone speak to him.

He had missed her too if he was honest, but he hadn't wanted to seem like some sort of fool, who believed himself to be head over heels after their first meeting. People didn't fall in love on first sight, did they? Not in real life at least. You had to get to know a person before you could really decide on how you truly felt about them. As it stood, Nicholas only knew that her name was Gloria, she was a first year music major and she liked chicken and onion sandwiches. Beyond that he knew nothing else. It was hardly much to go on, and yet… he felt as though he had known her his entire life. Still, the feeling was there. He couldn't deny the evidence at least.

"I know wha' ye mean. I kinda been feelin' the same e'er since ye… uh… kissed m'heed. No denyin' tha' there's somethin' between us..." Gloria's cheeks were a vibrant red now. It was a few moments before she spoke again. "I... I wanted to ask you something…" She breathed in deeply, and gathered her thoughts, before continuing. He sat back on his haunches, nodding to her. "Yeah sure… Fire away"

Gloria was touched by how kind he was being towards her. He was almost being chivalrous; a rare thing in a boy these days. She smiled at him again, unable to stop it seemed. "I wanted to ask you to a sort of gathering that myself and a few of the others from my class are going to? It's this Friday at the local bar, the, uhm,_Shady Lady._ It used to be called the_Cork & Screw_but it's changed its name so many times, it's hard to keep track." She looked to him hopefully, tensing a little. _What if he says no? I mean, why would he even say yes? You are inviting him to a posh night out with people outside of his social circle - if he even has a social circle - and you saw what crowds do to him!_ She suddenly felt ashamed having asked it. She must seem so selfish for forgetting his fears so suddenly. "It's just a little get together and sing along, nothing too flashy. Would you be willing to go?"

She grabbed her bag and offered him the invitations which had been posted all over the university. She knew, seeing as he preferred the secluded parts of the campus, that he wouldn't have seen them. Social settings were not Nicholas' forte. Even as a young boy, he would shy away from anything that required him to be in a group of more than five people. It was a fear that he had managed to work on over the years but familiarity was something that helped to anchor him in largely crowded places. He had never been to the Shady Lady, although he had slept in the alleys to the back of it once or twice. This would be completely alien territory to him. Her could already feel the dread beginning to rise in his chest. That said, this was an opportunity that he might not ever get again. Here was a beautiful, accomplished young woman asking him out on what he supposed was some sort of date; although he shouldn't assume. She was asking him to join in on something she loved; something she obviously cared very deeply about. It would be rude to refuse, and quite frankly he didn't think that he had it in him to do so. She had been so kind to him these past two weeks, and any chance to spend time with her was seldom but wonderful. "I'd like that, yeah." He smiled to emphasize the point. "I'd really like tha'…"

Taking the pamphlet from her, he perused the details with a slight furrowing of the brow, as he was wont to do when he was thinking. After a moment or two he looked up again, affording her a lopsided grin. "Only one problem… I can'ee sing t'save m'life!"

Her hands shook a little as he took to the pamphlet from him, whether from excitement or anxiety, she wasn't quite certain. "Well, it doesn't matter if you can't or not. You don't have to perform. It would just be wonderful, if you could come" She was beside him now, but he didn't move away. He still had no desire to. It was as if someone had gotten inside his brain and shut off his panic switch. It was mollifying feeling, feeling this calm for the first time in what seemed an age, and it was all because of this wonderful, strange, slightly troubled young woman. Seeing her hands shake, he acted on impulse, and took them in his own. He turned them over in his own gloved ones and rubbed them a little with his fingers, as if he was examining them. They were petite; dainty, like an upper class girl's hands should be. "Yanno.. I used t'shake a lot like this. Used t'start as like a tremor in m'belly and work it's way outwards, till I was shakin' like an ol' drunk. I learned after a while tha' if ye breathe through it, usually ye can control 'em." He demonstrated the sort of breathing technique that he was talking about; a slow, long and steady breathe. "Don'ee always stop an impendin' panic attack, but it does help sometimes."

He was watching her now, seeing if maybe he could deem anything from her face about the sort of troubles she must have known in her short life. They lived in a day and age where no one wanted to know if about your troubles. It wasn't any of their business what went on behind closed doors; even if the evidence was screaming them in the bloody face. It was that 'shut up and keep to yourself' attitude that was the cause of the countless crimes of domestic abuse, infanticide and murder that littered the papers every other damned day. It was that same ignorance that caused him to be beaten every other day by his drunken father, while his mother watched on with cold indifference. It was basic conditioning; if she didn't contest him, she wouldn't incur his wrath. Meanwhile her youngest son lay bruised and beaten on the spotlessly clean floor of their council apartment. It was a twisted existence; one that he was glad to have escaped when he did.

Looking to Gloria, he could tell that she had suffered a similar sort of existence; just in a different social setting. Looking down at their joined hands now, he couldn't help the bitter frown that creased his brow. It wasn't fair. He knew that was a childish thought to have, but it wasn't. She didn't need to tell him what she had been through; because it was written all over her face. He had wanted to think that sort of thing only happened in the working class setting. It was naivety, of course. No matter where you went, there was always going to be bullies; be they your parents, your teachers or your peers at school. No one gave a shit about the underdog… except the other underdogs. "So… who's the cause of yers then? Yer, uh, 'issues' I mean? Mine's … Mine come from me Da…"

Gloria enjoyed his touch. It was tender and rough from use, but it was a comfort to her. She smiled as he continued to work his magic, easing her back into a state of normality. Once she was alright, she began to talk plainly, still holding his hands as she did so. "I wish I could tell you but I can't. I'm so sorry, Nicholas" She trembled at even the idea of telling another person. She just wasn't ready.

From a young age, she was made to understand the four golden rules for getting by in her household. The rules were simple. .

_1. Do not tell a soul of what happens behind closed doors._  
_2. Never speak out of turn. A silent child is a golden child._  
_3. Take your punishments as they come because you deserve them._  
_ anyone and the least of your worries will be hurt feelings._

She recited this often in her head like a twisted mantra. She feared her mother more than anything else in this world. She was the devil incarnate; a woman so fuelled on hatred that it seemed impossible that she was human at all. Just thinking of her made her well up. It was awful how someone could reduce you to such a state of anxiety, simply by speaking. The moment she stepped out of line; or dared to do less than average and she was cut down, put in her place, and made to know her own worth.

As she was thinking of these horrid traumas that her mother had nurtured in her, she was suddenly jolted from her reverie by someone calling her name. Looking up, she saw Clair lingering at the mouth of the tunnel. Gloria stood up quickly, breaking the closeness between she and Nicholas. "Oh damnit all! I was supposed to go to lunch with Clair! It completely slipped my mind!" She turned back to Nick and gave him an apologetic smile. "I am so sorry but I have to go! I'll see you on Friday evening! It'll be fun! I promise!" With that she turned and ran, leaving the stunned young man in her wake.

* * *

**The Shady Lady, The Following Friday Night, 1979.**

Nicholas didn't have many clothes. The whole point of running away was that you only brought as much as you could carry. For him, it had been a duffle bag full of clothes and some bare essentials that had long since run out. The clothes he still had although many had become ruined from time spent in damp hidey holes throughout Oxford. Still, he considered what he was wearing as his best outfit, and had even went to the length of compiling what little change he had to get it dry cleaned. It was the cleanest he had felt in two years. Well, if was going to make an impression, he best do it well...

Ascending the steps into the _Shady Lady, _he met the eye of the burly looking bouncer at the door, affording him a sheepish smile as he pushed his glasses up his nose and made his way into the bar. Inside, it was a familiar scene. As a young boy, he had often been sent down the pub to fetch his father for dinner. Often he would have to wait while he finished his pint, and sometimes - if his father was generous - he was treated to a packet of crisps and an fizzy orange. It was the only time that he had felt any sort of real connection to Robert Rush; even if they had only be play-acting at the roles of father and son. Things soon snapped back into reality as soon as they got home. At the very least, he had some good memories of that time.

Entering the lounge where the event was taking place, he was instantly met with the sound of saxophones and jazz pianos; the product of the band that were currently performing. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he found a place at the back of the room, beginning to scan it with his eyes for any sign of Gloria. He spotted her to the right of the stage, sitting with a group of her classmates. _Best not to disturb her. She'll come to you when she's ready._ Taking out his tobacco pouch, he began to roll up a cigarette, glancing every now and again to the band on the stage and nodding his head along to the music. Not his usual taste; but hell… he was open to anything with a beat.

Gloria loved these nights out with her classmates. It allowed her some much needed freedom, which was seldom granted in her house. Still, as far as her mother was concerned she was at a class event for extra credit. So it was a little white lie… It was a Friday night! Despite this, she was drinking light as she feared getting drunk, and besides, she wanted to be sober enough to sing.

Music majors enjoyed sharing their songs and written music with one another, and right now it was the topic of conversation. Gloria absorbed all she could from some of the upperclassmen, about the aesthetics of writing music and the trick to getting the best sound from your voice. She wanted to be the best. Ever since childhood she dreamed of being a concert violinist and performing on the stage. She laughed as Thomas; an old friend of hers, told a very corny joke about a trombonist. She was delighted so many people came for the open mic night; a lot of them being students from the university. Sipping her drink, she cast her eyes one last time over the crowd, looking for the one person she was hoping would come tonight. Part of her wondered if he would keep to his word. After all, he had no obligation to. After a few moments she then she spotted him, standing off to the right. It was all she could do not to spit out her drink!

After reassuring her friends that she hadn't choked on anything, she smiled and tried to hide her obvious excitement. A boy hadn't filled her with this much enthusiasm since well.. ever! She excused herself quietly and started towards Nicholas. As she neared him some of the local boozers pushed against her and just as quickly looked away, so as to make it look like an accident. Gloria knew different however. She was aware that some men came to this place only to get drunk, and letch at women much too young for them. She grunted as she pushed past them; some of them wolf-whistling after her as she did so. After shooting them a reproachful glance, she finally made it over to Nicholas.

He smiled at the bounce in her step as she greeted him; an expression that quickly withered as he noticed the reaction of the men nearest him as she passed them. Although they had tried to make it look like an innocent accident, it was obvious from their expressions that they were making some sort of peculiar attempt at flirting. The feeling that this invoked in Nicholas was not the usual sort of feeling that such idiots as those would usually generate in him; but something entirely new to him - jealousy.

Jealousy has a habit of manifesting in a number of ways; all of which are unique to those individuals who experience it. In some it created a sort of virulent anger that usually ends in a bloody bar fight. In others it spurs them into a territorial protectiveness, in which they feel the need to shield their chosen mate from whomever should dare to approach her. In Nicholas' case it was something of the latter. Although he may not have realised it yet, Nicholas was in love with this young woman, and wouldn't stand for anything even remotely resembling disrespect towards her.

"Welcome to Open Mic Night!" She smiled, happy to see him. "You look wonderful. Thanks for coming, and for putting in such an effort. I know it's hard on you, given your current money situation. It really means a lot to me". He had dressed himself up as best as he could, and she had to admit that at his best, he was rather handsome. He had done away with the beanie, exposing his mullet to the public, and was dressed in white shirt, jeans and a leather waistcoat. She was flattered that he had gone to such lengths for her.. "Have you gotten a drink yet? I can purchase you one, if you like. What do you drink?"

He shot an uncertain glance to the drunks, and placed a concerned hand on her shoulder, completely overlooking her offer of a free drink. "Hey.. Those bampots botherin' ye?"

She had to admit that she was confused by the question. Was he referring to the men behind her? She nodded at him and whispered as she leaned in. "Oh, don't pay any attention to them. They're just men who come to this bar for nothing more than to leer at the local women". She tore her gaze from him for a moment to glare at the men he was talking about. She was honestly tired of men like that; those who believed that they had a right to objectify women in the way that they did. "Honestly it not a problem I can deal with them". She was bluffing, of course. Her going up against those kinds of men was something that didn't bear thinking about. " They have inflated egos, and very rarely get anywhere beyond first base. It's as though they actually believe that they have a chance with any of us." She rolled her eyes as she remarked this. "That said! That is _not_ why you and I are here tonight! We're here to have a good time!" She took him by the hand and started to lead him across the bar. "Come along! I am getting you a drink!"

Excitement was coursing through her, as she almost skipped across the bar, hand in hand with him. She had wanted this for so long; just a chance to taste the absolute freedom of being able to make her own choices in life. Even if this was an illusion; it was a wonderful one that she wished would never end. She knew that she would have to go back to reality in the morning, but for tonight… just for one night, she could pretend.

As they neared the bar, she leaned across and asked for two drinks; a glass of rosé for herself, and a whiskey and gin for him. She handed him his drink, which he took with a thankful smile. She wanted to ask him so many questions, and was just about to ask, when Thomas summoned her from across the bar. It was all she could do not to swear audibly. Giving him the eye, she sighed and gestured to indicate that she would be with him in a moment.

She was more than a little annoyed, if she was wholly honest. She had wanted to spend some time with Nick before she had to sing, but it seemed that Thomas had other ideas. Always an advocate of her talents, he was eager to showcase her to the world… even if it meant sacrificing her social life as a result. Shaking her head with a sigh, she coyly winked at Nick. "Well time for you to see what I can do then. Wait here for me? I'll come back". Walking over to Thomas, she reminded herself to lecture him timing later. Tonight however, was about impressing Nicholas. She knew inside it was a stupid idea, but a part of her didn't care. She wanted, needed him to see; for what reason she was entirely unsure. She felt as though she was siren out of ancient lore attempting to seduce a sailor into her bosom, although with less graphic connotations of course. She just wanted him to notice her.

Although she was smiling at him from the stage, she couldn't help the shaky sigh that escaped her lips now. Taking the sheet music, she ascended the steps to the stage, intimating to the band she intended to sing. The butterflies were doing back flips in her stomach at the very idea of singing in front of so many, but she knew that this was a fear she would just have to overcome if she ever wanted to obtain her dream of being a great concert violinist. She took her position at the microphone as Thomas introduced her to the audience who clapped enthusiastically. She tried to find Nicholas in the audience and when she saw him, standing just off to the right, her eyes lit up. He was smiling at her, and clapping along with the others.

If Nicholas was honest, he was getting more than a little fed up with the drunken idiots, who were leering at Gloria now as if she was a piece of meat to be drooled over. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he felt as though he should be offended, even if he had only known the girl for a fortnight. These were men who had come from assumingly wealthy backgrounds, but who didn't have a scrap of decency between the lot of them. He was from the arse-end of Glasgow and even he knew better than to treat women like that; especially one as accomplished and kind Gloria. He supposed that those numpties didn't care much for her personality though. All they wanted was a healthy shag – no strings attached. Course, that sort of thing was never just straight forward like that. More girls ended up pregnant from one night stands than any other. He'd seen it too many times back home; half the reason he why he was still a virgin. If there was one thing Nicholas wasn't ready for, it was fatherhood. Given his own troubled background, it would be a wonder if he would ever become one. He'd just be too afraid of screwing up the kid the way his father had done him. That said, he wasn't one to try and predict what the future held. He left that sort of stuff to the likes of Nostradamus and all those other kooks.

Daring to move a little closer to the stage, he afforded Gloria one more smile to reassure her that he was watching. One thing he had never been good at was addressing crowds. Even the prospect of talking in front of his class as a boy used to fill him with trepidation. Watching her now, he couldn't help but wonder at her courage. He applauded as Thomas introduced her, and despite himself moved a little closer to the stage. He watched Gloria as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, composing herself.

And then she sang.

_Vissi d'arte, vissi d'amore,  
non feci mai male ad anima viva!  
Con man furtiva  
quante miserie conobbi aiutai.  
Sempre con fè sincera  
la mia preghiera  
ai santi tabernacoli salì._

Nicholas had heard a great deal of talented singers in time; his sister having been one of them but this was unlike anything he had ever heard. Her voice was like pure gold, as it cut through the air with perfect clarity and invaded every one of his senses. Although he didn't understand the words, he could feel the intense sadness and betrayal in her voice. She was pouring her heart out in every phrase, every note coming with such raw passion that it made his heart race. She was more than beautiful in this moment; her whole face illuminated as she exposed her soul to the audience through song. In those three minutes, he understood everything there was to know about her; of all the pain she had suffered in her short life and of the freedom that she longed for. Raising a hand to his mouth, he was unable to stop the tears that began to cascade down his face as she hit the crescendo of the song, and trailed off leaving him in silence.

He understood everything, and it cut him down to the core

He hadn't meant to cry, but her voice had overwhelmed him so much that he couldn't stop the tears from cascading down his cheeks. At the time, it had seemed like a perfectly normal reaction – men cried over beautiful or moving things all the time – except not usually in a pub in the backstreets of Oxford. The moment that she had stopped and he was jolted back to reality, he had realised that people had begun to stare. Retreating to the back of the pub, he sat down at the place where Gloria had first accosted him and tried to compose himself. What the hell was happening to him? Nicholas wasn't of a sentimental sort by nature; in fact some might have even called him impassive, with his laconic way of talking and his general disinterest in all that was going on around him. But Gloria… Gloria had affected him in a way that he had never felt before. It frightened him a little. The Scottish lad who had never so much as looked twice at a girl, had been reduced to tears by a girl he had only met two weeks previous. _Christ, what the hell is happening to me?_

He started when Gloria was suddenly sat in front of him, his eyes widening as he looked up, meeting her gaze. He hadn't wiped at the tears yet, which still clung to his stubbled face, as he sniffed dryly and wiped at his nose. He must have looked like a right numpty, and yet it was she who was deriding herself. Baffled by this reaction, he reached out quickly and touched her arm. "No! No of course ye weren't bad! Ye were… Ye were amazin'. I've ne'er heard anyone sing the way ye did up there t'night… It was… beautiful." He gave her a reassuring smile, as he squeezed her shoulder gently. "Ye've got real talent…"

Her attention was drawn to her shoulder instantly, when he touched her, expecting it to it hurt as she was so accustomed to. Except it never came. When she realized that it was meant as a comforting gesture, she allowed some of her tension to ebb. This was a first for her. With his hand on her shoulder now, everything else seemed to melt away for a moment. Turning her attention back to his face, she blushed a little at his words. The tears were still there; and it made her heart ache a little. Her had such sad eyes when he cried. "Hold on; let me". Taking out a tissue, she wiped at his eyes with a small smile. "You know, I can't say that I've ever made a man cry before".

He couldn't help the blush that crept into his cheeks as she insisted on wiping his tears away. Her fingers felt like silk against his stubbled chin, and it was everything he could do to suppress the small shiver that was threatening to shoot down his spine. Keeping his eyes trained on her, he afforded her one of his rare smiles, as she continued to stroke his cheek. They remained like this for what seemed an age, neither able to look away. It was almost as though they were living out one of those ridiculously cheesy scenes from the movies - minus the swelling melodramatic music and misty camera effects. "Yanno… I think-"

Nicholas didn't get to finish his sentence as the burly drunk sidled into place, draping his arm around Gloria's shoulder, as his friends looked on and chortled. He had expected that he would have had to deal with this at some point; but it didn't make the situation any more enjoyable. Poor Gloria. She looked absolutely terrified; her body almost completely rigid against the lecher's arm. He could see in her eyes that she was willing him to run; to remove himself from that situation. A slight shake of his head was enough to let her know that that wasn't going to happen. Keeping a relaxed attitude, Nicholas put his hands in his pockets, and stepped up to the man, retaining the same laconic expression. They key was to not lose the head. His friends would be expecting that, and would come to his aid the moment things began to look hairy.

Taking the time to casually light a cigarette, he sniffed dryly and gently shoved the guy's arm from her shoulder, replacing it with his own as he gently pulled Gloria to him and held her close. He gave her a small wink, encouraging her to play along.

"Yeah, uh… I'd appreciate if ye didn'ee manhandle m'girlfriend like tha', mate. Yer makin' be kinda uncomfortable. No' t'mention s'kinda disrespectful t' the lady, yanno?"

Paralyzed. That was the perfect word to that described how she felt as this drunken had idiot touched her; utter revulsion and paralysing fear. Before she could open her mouth to protest, Nicholas was making his move. She watched him mesmerized by his courage. While she wanted him out of this situation; she knew that she would never have gotten out of this alone. She needed him. When he removed the lecher's hand from her, she sighed as she felt her freedom once again returned to her. She watched Nicholas as he smoked, talking to the brute like he was nothing. She relaxed instantly as Nick's arm enveloped her like a protective wing, shielding her from those that intended to do her harm. She turned her attention towards him, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face. She wanted nothing more than to embrace him tightly. He had saved her; for no other reason other than he could. It was rather flattering if she was entirely honest.

Nick's somewhat flippant attitude only served to enrage the other man more, and he balled his fists, glaring at them both. "You!? With a girl like her?! Are you outta your fuckin' mind?!" he slurred, pointing an accusing finger at them. Dull-witted though he seemed, he was still at least three times the size of her protector. Should a fight break out between them, Gloria wasn't so confidant that Nick would stand much of a chance. "You sure you aren't just…well…lying?" he asked, stepping forward as if to intimidate. He was clearly not about to give up on his targeted lady of the night, although Nicholas seemed unphased as he continued to smoke his cigarette with the same measured terseness. The drunk stepped forward and fell over his own feet, but managed to steady himself just in time. He eyed Nick and smirked as his gaze turned towards Gloria's chest and he looked down it. It was a daring move, and she could feel Nicholas's grip tightening ever so slightly around her. Gloria quivered. All they ever saw was her body. She whimpered and turned into Nick for comfort. She hated that she needed protection, but she knew that if she had tried to take this man on he would have broken her in two. She looked up at Nick with a look that was pleading him with not to antagonize this man.

Inclining his head a little, Nicholas adopted a more solid stance and flexed his fingers. This guy clearly wasn't getting the point. He didn't want to get into a fight, but if he kept leering at Gloria in that way, he might just be forced to dispense with his usually pacifistic scruples. The guy was at least a foot taller than him, and built like a bloody tank, but he wasn't too steady on his feet. That would give him the advantage if it came to it. Looking at the guy sidelong, he sighed and took a slow drag of his roll-up before expelling the smoke in a sigh. "M'no' a liar, mate. The lady likes wha' she likes. Incidently, she's got a thing fer smart blokes." He shrugged dismissively deliberately turning Gloria so that she was now shielded from the wolfish gaze of her tormentor.

This seemed to enrage the thug, as he grabbed Nick by the front of his vest and dragged him forward. The latter didn't react, merely stared up at the behemoth with a look of exasperation. Alright well if this was the way it had to be then, so be it. The rebuttal was both sudden and vicious, as Nicholas delivered a sharp, contained under-cut to the thug's exposed gut. With an subtle grunt of pain, the giant went down on his knees, as Nicholas stepped back and delivered a resounding elbow to the back of his neck. Cigarette still in his mouth, he shot a glance to the thug's friends, who quickly backed up, and turned tail leaving their friend doubled over on the floor. Nothing more needed to be exchanged between them. The point had be driven home. Gloria wouldn't be troubled by them again. Going back to her, he put his arm around her again, and smiled with a slightly sheepish grin. "Did I mention I was a lightweight boxer back 'n Glasgow?"

What had she just witnessed? Did that actually happen? Did someone actually save her from someone who sought to hurt her? Nick had punched him and the drunk had gone down like a lead balloon. Someone had actually protected her instead of using her as a shield for their own cowardice. For her sins, she had doubted him. How she had been proven wrong. She turned to him then and embraced him; practically jumping up and down with excitement. "Thank you so much! Thank you!" She grinned at him.

Grabbing him, she directed him towards the bar, talking at a mile a minute as she did so. "I need to repay you! I know! I... I'll get you another drink! God knows you could do with another after that!" She wished that she could do more, but this would have to do for now. Turning to him as they got to the bar, she was almost gasping with the exhilaration of all that had just happened. "No one has ever done anything like that for me. Why did you do it? I mean you didn't have to!" He heart was ramming against her ribcage, as she placed her hand on the bar to steady herself.

It was all so much to take in, that the anxiety was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable. The uncomfortable feeling ebbed away as she realized that she had grabbed Nicholas' hand in the interim, and was now gripping it tightly. She flushed red again, quickly letting go as she turned to the barman and ordered two drinks. Taking hers from the bartender, she quickly drank it back in one go, and slammed it down on the bar, gasping at the burning sensation that it left in her throat. She was drinking too fast, she knew but she needed this. Seating herself on one of the barstools, she finally looked to Nick and smiled a little sheepishly. She must have looked insane to him.

"Nicholas you… What you did back there. No one has ever done that for me before. You… You saved me". Any other guy might have turned tail and ran, but Nicholas had stood and defended her honour. She started to cry then, but was still smiling all the while. "You saved me" she reiterated, staring at him in disbelief. She was having a hard time focusing through the tears, but the happiness she felt in this moment outweighed everything else. Taking a sharp intake of breath, she broke her gaze from him and ordering another drink, she downed it as quickly as she could manage. This was too much.

Nick couldn't help the look of bemusement that spread across his face, as Gloria leaned on the bar, and downed yet her second drink in as many minutes. Catching her arm as she went to order a third, he made her face him, unable to suppress the chuckle as he spoke. "Easy. Cool yer heels a bit. Ye'll pass out if ye keep tha' up. I don'ee wanna have t'carry ye back t'yer apartment." He put a hand on her shoulder again, and smiled, affording her a gentle smile as he did so. He kept doing that. Why did he keep touching her? Dropping his hand, he raised it to scratch the back of his head. "Bu' honestly, s'nothing. Guys like tha' need someone t'sort 'em out. S'not righ' yanno? Them goin' about treatin' women like they're pieces a meat. S'distasteful, like."

Looking to her, he couldn't help but wonder yet again, what kind of torture the girl must have been through to illicit such a reaction. Had she really never had anyone stand up for her before? He supposed that, neither had he, but for a girl to go her whole life without knowing such a simple kindness, seemed terribly sad to him. Seeing her down the drink the way that she was, he could tell that she and he were kindred spirits in some respect; both terribly messed up but trying to carry on; simply because it was expected of them. As he was going to speak, he stopped, a smile spreading across his face as he laughed to himself at the song that was beginning on play over the speakers. Oh man, this song. It had to be this song. Craft by The Carpenters. It was a fairly new song but he had taken a shine to it when he'd first heard it on the radio. It reminded him of his childhood days when he used to sit in the window of his bedroom, in those rare moments alone and read the science fiction tales of Isaac Asimov and Philip. K. Dick.

His next move might have been considered compulsive by most - well, alright everyone but what was it they said about seizing the day. He'd been playing it safe for too long. There was something between them, and if he didn't find out now, he might never know. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her to her feet and grinned. "Dance with me?"

The offer to dance came rather out of the blue, and she had to admit that she was surprised at how casually he had asked. She was lifted from her seated position into his arms so quickly that she felt flushed. She listened to the song and smiled. She had to admit that it really suited him, somehow. He seemed like the sort of guy who would be open to the idea of life on other planets. Who knew; perhaps one day, he would be out there amongst them. "I would love to dance with you Mr. Rush", she chuckled as she walked with him to the dance floor.

As he took her hands and they began to dance, her heart was racing a mile a minute, even though the song was a slow one. She could feel the warmth of his body close to her; the simplicity of it all making her feel more at ease than she had ever felt in her life. Here she was slow dancing with a boy that she had known for only two weeks; and whom she had only had contact with for forty-eight hours of those. It seemed both surreal and impossible that she could be here already, and yet here she was. She rested her arms on his shoulders as they danced, feeling as light as a feather as they moved slowly together. She couldn't help but wonder what her life would have been like had she met Nicholas sooner. Would she have been happier; freer than she was now?

Nicholas had to admit that the choice of song for their first dance had been a little bit odd. Still, they're relationship; if he could even could call it that, wasn't exactly conventional. In many ways, it was the perfect choice. He hadn't expected her to want to dance with him. In fact, he'd been more than a little afraid that she'd outright refuse him. Now that they were here, slowly swaying together to the silky vocals of Karen Carpenter, he wondered why he ever doubted that she would.

As the song continued, she placed her forehead against his and looked into his eyes. For all the painful moments in her life, this one erased them all in its simplicity and insouciance. She wanted this moment to continue forever. He couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face, as she pressed her forehead against his… and then she was kissing him, and everything; the room, the people, the music just melted away into nothing. He was absolutely lost in her in that moment; completely and utterly hers. How could he describe that first kiss; or the connection that is formed as your lips touch those of your soulmate's for the first time? Had he doubted it before; he had every assurance now that she was the one.

In that moment as their lips touched, it felt as though a new world had just been born in her mind; the possibilities endless to her. And then came the dread; the uncertainty – the guilt. She opened her eyes, and realizing what it was that she had done, she pulled back and turned away from him bringing her hand to lips, as she swallowed. "Oh, Nick… I'm so sorry. I can't do this!" With that she turned on her heel and ran towards the exit.

When she pulled away, he was left somewhat stunned as everything in the room came crashing back in an instant, and the cold harshness of the reality rebounded on him. Why did she look so distraught; as though she had realised an error in her ways? He couldn't stop the sting of fear that worked its way into his heart and she uttered her apology and made to run towards the exit. He was after her in a second, of course, grabbing his leather jacket from the back of the stool where they had been sitting just moments ago, before following her outside. He found her there, hugging herself against the cold, a look of painful realisation etched onto her face. He wasn't quite sure what had happened to make her react in this way, but he was certain that he wouldn't leave her until he at least got some sort of explanation. Had it been something he'd done? Had she suddenly realised that she didn't quite see him in the way that both of them had secretly hoped, and that anything beyond friendship seemed… wrong? He needed to know; to at least mollify himself that he hadn't offended her in some way.

"Gloria…" He dared another step towards her, refraining from touching her this time, unless she reacted badly. "Wha'… wha' happened in there? I mean… we're havin' fun weren't we? Did… Did I do somethin' weird? 'Cause if I did, m'really sorry… I jus' have this habit 'o makin' an arse o' m'self without e'en noticin' it, yanno… I.. I'm sorry…"

She heard the footsteps approaching, although she didn't turn to face him. She didn't want Nick to see how this was affecting her. When she finally answered him, her voice was wavering. "Nick I…I didn't realize…I just…I had to get out of there after I…I did that to you. I should never have kissed you like that." She knew that he wouldn't understand what she was talking about. In truth, not even she was entirely sure. "I'm so sorry. It was a mistake; a terrible mistake." She was doing this for his own good; because God knew she feared her mother's wrath more than anything. She feared even more what that wicked woman might do to him, should she discover him. She gently felt the ring on her finger; that ugly, bawdy ring that she had forgotten about. It was easy to, being in the presence of someone like Nick; someone who made her feel free, and alive. She turned to face him, smiling though tears were streaming down her face. She didn't care that she was freezing to death out here. She had to make him understand.

"Can you forgive me? For leading you on like this? It was wrong of me; so very wrong. I should have told you, and for that I'm sorry." How could she admit to him now that they could never be together; that this was the end of their two day romance? She cried then her hands rushing to stop the never ending tears in agitation. She knew it was useless to cry like this, and yet she couldn't stop the tears from falling. She looked to Nick, her make up a mess and her face contorted with pain. What a sight she must look to him. She wanted to run to him right there and then and just lose herself; to run away, elope, anything rather than have to tell him the truth. "Nick… I… "

Part of him didn't want to know what pains she had suffered; and yet another part wanted to know everything so that he could understand, and make sense of this remarkably sad young woman. As she turned to him, he felt his heart lurch at the sight of her tears and stepped forward, searching her face for some sign; any clue of how to make it better. None came, and his gaze only seemed to make her cry harder. Listening as she tried to explain, tried to put into reason why the kiss that they had just shared was something to be sorry for, he continued to search her eyes to deem the truth from her words. He saw many things there; sadness, desperation, but most of all fear, and recognised it. He had seen that very same look in his own eyes every time he looked in the mirror.

If he had ever doubted that she too was a victim before; every bit of proof was there now in her eyes.

Noticing that she was beginning to shiver, he took off his jacket and draped it about her shoulders, as he reached his hands up to thumb her tear stained cheeks. It pained him to see her so utterly devastated by so simple a thing, and wanted so badly just to take it all away; to bear her burden. It realised that it was unusual to feel like this for someone that he hardly knew, but the truth was that he knew more about her now than he ever knew about another human being; simply because he had lived it.

"Hey… Ye don'ee have to apologise. Whate'er reason ye have t'be afraid… t'make ye feel like ye have to apologise… It … It doesn't matter now. We have somethin' here… an'… an' I'm no' willing t'let go of it jus' yet… It… It was jus' a kiss. There ain't no sin in kissin' someone, is there?"

"Nick…I…" she reiterated, battling to get the words. She was lost in her thoughts and they were spiralling out of control. The truth was the best choice; the only choice. When she felt the warmth of his jacket against her skin she was still wondering how a person could be so kind. He had a good heart and that was what she admired about him the most. When he these did kind things for her or even just the simple act of talking to her she felt happiness. His warmth and kindness, everything, It was two weeks and two days of contact and she was already in love with everything that he was. Could that happen?

She snuggled into the coat not caring if it smelt like cigarette smoke. It was his jacket, that's all that mattered. She tried to focus on him through the tears streaming her face. She took a deep breath calming herself and readying herself for the truth. If she hesitated anymore he might think she was insane or worse deluded. He might not be wrong in thinking so... "Nick back there that man and that dance were the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me. I'm not going to lie to you because it would only hurt more in the long run, and I can't imagine hurting someone like you. You have such a kind heart, but I fear that what I'm about to tell you might break it. It breaks mine every day I remember it."

She shifted uncomfortably. She never thought in a million years she would be explaining this to someone. She hadn't foresee these circumstances leading to this moment. She slowly lifted her hand and held it up so Nick could see the engagement ring clearly. She felt her heart breaking inside and deep down she detested her mother for this; for all of this. This was all her fault. The shaking wasn't brought about by the cold this time but from sadness. She loved him. She loved him and inside she was falling apart in that single moment. _I love him._That was all she was thinking as she let the truth come tumbling out. "I'm engaged Nicholas..."


End file.
